I’ll never forget the book that made me fall in love with reading: A Prayer For Owen Meany by John Irving. It was the summer between grade 10 and 11, I grabbed it from the family bookcase, and was hooked from the first line. That book followed me everywhere—to quiet corners in my house, to the beach, to bed—and each page I fell more and more in love.
Life is always better with a good book. This is something I say often, but somewhere between all the grown-up responsibilities of life and having kids of my own, reading just for fun left my lexicon. Don’t get me wrong, I still read—I’ve been reading the Harry Potter series to my kids every night for years and always go to bed with a book myself—but as of late it’s one page and done. It’s not that the book isn’t good; I’m just so tired when I hit the hay that reading works like an instant Ambien. Zzzz…
Time to make reading more of a priority. Forgot the no-time excuse, or that reading is reserved for the end of the day; I decided to dedicate 30 minutes a day to one of my favorite past times, no exceptions. My plan: to crack open a book in the morning, afternoon, or whenever the page-turning urge struck. Here’s what happened when I did.
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